Cat and Magnus
by K.CWrites
Summary: A fun catch me if you can type story. Alec Lightwood is the most famous, youngest, and elusive drug dealer in New York. Magnus Bane is a detective for the NYPD with a need for justice and mischief. Both with scars, physically and emotionally, until they find each other one night and begin to heal. Rated M for possible future smut.
1. The Roof

**Only chapter one, I promise! If this gets 10 reviews within 10 days I'll post two more chapters! Review, review, review! :) **

Alec POV

The meeting place is always the same. Deserted alleyway in no-one-gives-a-fuck-ville, with a shitty suitcase. The black leather suitcase thing is a bit of a tip off to anyone who has ever seen any action movie, so it's usually a five dollar one from EBay. The alley thing is a bit cliché too, but this amount is too big to pocket in a club and who the hell brings a suitcase to the park? Just a bit conspicuous. They're clichés for a reason. No cop is randomly shinning his high beams into dark alleyways at 2am. If they are, my fedora hides my face pretty decently. I've always been a hat guy.

I lift my Rolex to check the time, 2:12am. I inwardly growl, I hate it when they're late. The suitcase is feeling increasingly heavier in my hands, and the alleyway smells of garbage. Occupational hazard. The sound of shoes crunching across the pavement alerts me. I glance up slightly so he still can't see my face under the brim of my hat. _Damn. He is gorgeous._ The tall man approaches while my jaw is located somewhere on the ground.

His eyes are of Asian descent, with hazel irises with flecks of golden and brown around the pupils. The orange street lights cast an unusual shadow around him, mysterious, confident and dead sexy. _Christ, one very good looking man and I'm sixteen again. _One wouldn't normally think two years was much time, but it was. Everything about my life is entirely different from the shy junior who watched the boys on the football field instead of the girls in the tight cheerleading outfits.

"Do you have it?" He asks, his voice velvety and smooth. _Oh sweet Jesus, his fucking voice! _I blink, stutter an incoherent version of the word yes, and hold up the suitcase. I'm suddenly grateful for the hat covering half of my red face. When the guy reaches for it, I find my voice. "Uh, uh. Money first. You show me the money, I show you the drugs, and we both go on our merry way." I explain, trying not to sound like a 5th grader. He reaches for what I assume is his phone, but instead he pulls out a black leather wallet.

"You've got to be shitting me." I say, laughing. "Unless you have more than half a mil in there, I'm walking." Had this guy ever bought drugs before? The man smiles. He flips the wallet open; it wasn't a wallet. It's an I.D badge that reads NYPD. "Really?" I ask, dropping the suitcase and putting my hands up. He shrugs, and moves towards me. I turn and run. I used to run track, and I always have an escape plan. Quite useful for times such as this. The alleyway has a dead end, which is probably why he's picked it. However, there are fire escapes. Much like the one attached to the building we're next to.

The black ladder attached to the building is rickety but will hopefully hold my weight. I leap on it, taking two at a time while the guy curses behind me. I glance below me, he's climbing fast. I grip the steel rungs harder and pull myself up to the roof. The door that leads to the stairs is about 15 feet away from me. My feet pound hard against the ground, and I almost reach the door handle when I hear a click.

_He has a gun. Great. _I turn around slowly, putting my hands up. "What's your name?" He asks me. "Believe me. You would know who I am." I say, as I walk a bit closer. _Come on, just let me get a little closer to you. _He still doesn't lower his gun. Just as I am right in front of him, I stop. "What's your name?" I ask, hoping he can't see how red my face is. Running and talking to an absurdly attractive cop has got me all hot and bothered. The guy snorts, "I have a gun to your face, and proof you're a drug dealer. But you want to know my name?"

I shrug, and pull my hat farther down my face self-consciously. "Why not?" I squeak out, my voice ridiculously high. "Magnus Bane. Detective, NYPD." He replies. "So before I get locked up forever, do I get one last phone call? My parents should probably be aware." I say, a bit sarcastically. Magnus's mouth drops, "How old are you?" I smile, "Eighteen." Magnus's golden pupils are the size of saucers. "You must be the youngest, most famous drug dealer in New York." He says in awe, his voice entwined with half admiration and half surprise.

I shrug, and reach down while glancing back at him. He nods giving his permission. Faster than the poor guy can even think, I push his hands upwards and twist the gun out of his hands. I point it back at him. He sure looks pissed now. "You realize you're pointing an armed gun at a police officer, right?" Magnus asks, angrily. "Do you realize there's a reason I'm famous?" I ask him. He throws his hands up in the air dramatically. "Other than you sell the cleanest blow in the city and no one's knows anything about you?" He says, cocking an eyebrow. _Damn, that's sexy. Easy, Alec. Easy. _

"It's because I have never gotten caught. And yes, being invisible does help with that." I deadpan. I click it open, take the bullets and toss it back to him. I walk backwards towards the door, and slam my head into it. _Ouch. Smooth, Alec. Real smooth. _Magnus Bane is smirking at me. "To recover from that," I say with my hand on the door knob. "Would it be cliché to say catch me if you can?" He scoffs, and nods.

I open the door, "The best of luck to you, Magnus Bane." I step into the staircase and lock the door behind me. _He's going to be so pissed. _I descend down the stairs, get to the bottom floor of the apartment, and disappear into the night.


	2. The Meet

**Sorry it's been so long! This took me longer than I thought! But anyways, 10 reviews and I'll post another chapter! And I actually will, because I already wrote it ;) **

**All characters belong to CC **

Magnus POV

_That fucking bastard locked me on the goddamn roof_. I jiggle the handle of the door but to no avail. I glance around at my surroundings, trying to understand how fucked I am. I feel around in my pockets for my flashlight and pull out the small but bright flashlight I always have on me. _Click, _a small burst of light illuminates the roof. I quickly walk over to the fire escape with heavy dread.

I shine my light down on what someone would only call the shittiest ladder of all time. It's a miracle we didn't break the damn thing on the way up. The entire ladder is coated with brown rust, the top that attaches to the building appears to be holding on by the tiniest of hairs. A mouse couldn't make it down this ladder, much less 180 pounds of me.

I growl, cursing the gods the day Mr. Infuriatingly Sexy Voice decided he wanted to become a drug dealer. I spin around looking for other ways off this infernal roof. My phone is getting increasingly heavier in my pocket. After briefly considering jumping, breaking the door down, and taking my chances with the ladder, I pull my phone out and I call Catarina. "Magnus?" She answers bright and cheery as if she already knows that she's saving my balls. I try not to groan with annoyance.

"Cat? Could you do me a small favor…?"

I promise to answer all of Catarina's questions when I haven't been locked on a roof for an hour, and get out of her car. I trudge up the stairs of my apartment, shivering from the cold. The roof was colder than the fucking 9th circle of hell, so as I unlock the door to my apartment I'm in a pretty shitty mood. I flip on the lights, and everything fades away. My day is no longer shitty and I am no longer freezing, because standing in the middle of my apartment is an honest to God _angel. _

Adrian is standing in middle of my apartment, completely naked_. _Every particle, every neuron, every atom of my very being is alive. He smirks at me as he sees my face. "Get over he-" Adrian starts, but I practically leap over to him and cut him off. My clothes, my gun, my badge all hit the floor and I'm just me again. I'm just Magnus. Adrian's hot mouth is against my lips, my neck, my chest. This is my heroin. This is my relief, my addiction, my sanctuary.

Adrian hauls me over his shoulder and carries me to my bedroom.

Being naked in bed, after hot sex is really the best thing on earth. I really don't want to leave but I need some water. Gently moving the comforter, I stand and stretch. Yawning, I make my way to my kitchen. I really love my apartment. It's warm and cozy, all while looking designer chic. Everything is how I left it, which is messy. There are numerous dishes and wine glasses in the sink, jackets are draped from my couch, and a pile of bills are spread out on the table. Something black on the table catches my eye. There's one black envelope on my kitchen table. He was here.

My heart quickens, and before I pick it up I check the front door. _No sign of forced entry and the door was definitely still locked when I entered. _I check all the windows, all still locked. I pick up the black envelope on the table, rip open the seal, and read the card.

Dear Magnus Bane Detective for NYPD,

Nice apartment. I tried to pet your cat and he nearly scratched my eye out.

Sorry I locked you on the roof.

Here's a token of my sincerest apologies.

P.S He seemed cute. I would say have fun, but by the ecstatic moans I hear I think you already are. ;)

I turned the black envelope over, and a blue lollipop drops out. _Oh, it is so on … _

White smoke puffs out of my cigarette, twisting and turning in the air vanquishing into the white dotted blackness of the sky. I'm not a smoker usually; I smoked a bit in high school to seem cool but mostly I'm doing it tonight because of the naked god reading my note and smiling to himself.

He's so fucking beautiful it hurts.

I know I shouldn't be so attracted to the cop who would like nothing more than to put me in jail for the rest of my life but he's different. He's not like the others. He's the cat trying to capture me and swallow me whole leaving nothing but a carcass behind.

It was always a game in the beginning.

The exhilaration. The money. The high! No, I'm not talking about the drugs that I sell. The high of not getting caught. The high of almost, just _almost _getting caught, because I've come close.

But I've gotten smarter_. Shall we play a game, Magnus Bane?_ I think, practically giggling myself off his fire escape. I descend and walk the long way home.

"Roberts wants to see you, Bane." I hear Ragnor's voice say. .

I look up from the enormous amount of paperwork sitting on my desk. Ragnor leans against the door frame, looking bored.

"Did he look like he wanted to rip my balls out?" I ask, as I stand and adjust my jacket.

Ragnor shrugged, "He always looks like that to me." I murmur thanks, as I pass him and head down the hallway to the Chief's office.

I barely get through the doorway before I hear, "What the hell happened last night, Bane?" Dean Roberts is pacing in front of his window. _Shit. My balls will never look the same after this. _

"Sir, the suspect dropped the drugs in the alleyway and ran when he knew it was a set up. I almost caught him, but he, uh, locked me on the roof." I reply, trying not to sound like the bumbling idiot I am.

"What happened to the coke?" He asks, his face still red.

"It's in the evidence locker, sir." I state, hoping that doesn't piss him off as well.

"Well, Bane if it were anyone else you'd be on suspension. But you clear a damn impressive 92% percent rate under cover, so I'm gonna say last night was a discrepancy. You're getting another chance. There's another drug bust that we need you on. Ragnor will fill you in." Roberts grumbles.

"Thank you, sir." I respond, as I get up and head towards the door.

"Bane?" I hear, and I turn. "You're gonna catch this son of a bitch, you hear?" It's not an encouragement, it's a threat. I nod, as I head out the door.

Smoke twists and curls around him like sliver snakes around his dancing body. He grinds to the loud thumping that seems to be passing for music. Red and green lights flicker across his lean torso. With tight leather pants, a see-through mesh shirt, and thick lines of coal rimmed around his golden eyes, you'd never have guessed this guy is the lead detective for the NYPD.

He's smart, closing an impressive 92% rate. Had a 3.9 GPA in high school, probably could've gone to an Ivy, but parents had no money. Instead, he studied at a local police academy, working his way up through the ranks. Noble, which would account for more, but he was rumored to have a bit of a wild side. It was well known rule that it was hard to be anything less than an honorable citizen when you're a policeman, but that didn't apply to Magnus.

He can talk his way out of anything. He's simultaneously envied, adored, admired, and despised. I glance down at the file in my hands; my guy had done well. I've had about 6 different detectives look into me over the past year and a half. All of them had given up after 2 or 3 months. After all, I'm a ghost. I'd made damn sure of it. But this guy; he's different. The others all had impressive careers but by the time they were after me, their careers were coming to an end and didn't really have the time or patience for me. Magnus closed nearly every case he got, and is only 23. I made him look like an ass the other night and he definitely wasn't going to let that go. He's the determined sort of type. Finally a worthy challenge.

He's different looking as well. All mysterious, confident, sexiness while the other guys were middle aged, potbellied sagginess. Not exactly eye candies. Magnus Bane, though is at his prime in every single way. I feel sixteen again, dreaming about Matt Rogers the football captain and the sexiest guy in my high school. We want what we can't have. I slip the file back into my bag, take my second glass of scotch, and tip half of it into my mouth. I try not to grimace as the liquid fire runs down my throat, burning my insides. I never was overly fond of alcohol, but I need it tonight.

"Tastes like Satan's cock, right?" A silky smooth voice says. I look over. Standing at the bar next to me is Magnus Bane.


	3. The Hook Up

**Here you go, lovelies! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback, it keeps me writing :) 10 reviews and I'll tell you what happens next.**

Alec POV

Things that went through my mind as Magnus's unwavering cat eyes stare straight at me:

Huh?

Me?

Oh hell, he means me.

Okay, okay...NO NOT OKAY

STAY CALM ALEC

I look like an idiot.

Just look away.

And instead of doing any of those things the best I can managed is a, "Hmsghf?"

Holy fuck Alec, that wasn't even English. Shit, shit, shit. He doesn't even know who you are. He thinks he's just hitting on someone at a bar. Okay. I hope my face is disguised by the darkness of the club. The corners of Magnus's mouth twist upwards into a fucking heart stopping smirk. That smirk will be enough to get me off for the rest of my life.

"I'm guessing that's a yes." He leans in closer to me. My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. I take a deep breath. Holy shit, he's lips are less than a foot away from mine. If I leaned forward we would be kissing. Okay, focus Alec. This guy wants your balls on a platter.

"You know, you could try being a little more discrete." His voice is caramel and gravel right in my ear. I try to focus on what he's saying.

"Wha-?" I ask. I grimace, I can't even form a complete sentence.

"Oh, please. I know your game. I've seen, dated, fucked your game." His words are water, all slick and smooth, sending shivers through my entire body. Just the way he says fuck makes me want him. "It's all innocent, naïve, pretty boy. It's cute." He drops a glittery, charcoaled wink at me. Finally, I find my voice.

"You don't think I know your game?" I ask him, tilting my head slightly. I think the scotch is putting some liquid courage in my veins and it's coursing through like a wildfire. My body feels like its radiating confidence. I'm the fucking sun of confidence! A familiar nagging voice says you're drunk, Alec. Every single word drips with disappointment. It seeps into my body into I can feel it eclipsing my sureness.

I finish off my drink, tell my voice to piss off, and let the words flow. They're coming so fast Ican'tstopthemIdon'twanttostopthem until I hear my voice say, "You think I'm some innocent twink and you're some bad boy who's going to teach me your rotten ways?" I half slur. The words are tumbling out of my mouth with absolutely no permission from my brain. But I smile like a drunk idiot, because well hey, that's what I am right now. Was that voice even me? It sounded like a huskier, sexier Alec than the one than I'm acquainted with. It sounded sort of suave so I plow on. "I know all your ways. I've seen, dated, fucked your ways. There's nothing you can teach me. Besides, it's Tuesday night. Shouldn't you have something or one to do?" I try to copy his wink but I think it just looks like I'm having a face spasm. Magnus chuckles at me and grins, and puts his hand on my thigh. I put my hand on his back, pulling him closer to my body.

I'm going to combust if he keeps grinning at me like that.

He brings his hand up and tilts my head up towards his face. "I do what I want. Or who." His lips whisper hotly. His lips look incredibly soft and inviting with just a hint of gloss. He's gorgeous and sexy and charming and I want him so badly…

I pull away. I want him to say that he wants me. I want to hear the words come from that perfect mouth. I want Magnus Bane to say that he wants me. Because I'm trivial. I've become trivial. To my father, to myself, to the world. I'm broken, shattered, incomplete. So I want him to say he wants me, before he realizes he picked the damaged vase on the shelf.

"Uh-uh." I shake my head. He tilts his own in question. I reach my hand around his neck and pull him closer to my mouth. I kiss his neck, gently sucking, leading up to his ear. He moans quietly.

"If you want me…" I whisper in his ear, gently sucking on his earlobe. "Tell me. Now."

Magnus groans, a deep primal sound, and I nearly convulse off the fucking bar chair. Suddenly, he puts his hands on my back and pulls me up. Not sure about being jerked to a standing position, my legs sway in disagreement. He leans my body against his so that every part that can be touching are. It's hot skin and flesh against each other, and I melt into him until we're a mess of body parts, connected with one heart beating one rhythm.

He grabs and squeezes my ass, and grinds against my groin. The space in my pants has become decreasingly less roomy since he started talking, but now it's gone from snug to so tight it hurts.

"Believe me. I want you." Magnus says, as he takes my hand and pulls me towards the bathroom.

Magnus shoves me hard against the stone bathroom wall, making my head vibrate. It hurts and I wince, but all the pain melts away as soon as Magnus takes my hands, pins them above my head and starts kissing my neck. Groaning and breaking free of his hold at once, I spin us so I'm pinning him against the wall. I attack his neck with a flurry of kissing, sucking, biting, moaning, groaning, until he's practically begging to be free of the confines of his jeans. "Please." He begs/whimpers. I make a tsk tsk sound and he grinds against me impatiently. My God. He's looking at me like I'm the last piece of chocolate cake at the bake sale. I stop and pull back. He looks confused, but slows down with me and breathes. I can practically hear our hearts pounding together. We're so close to each other our heavy breathes mix intertwine, and all I want to do is not stop, never stop, always be this.

"You." He breathes, trying to get the words out in between his breathes. "Are such a tease." I smile my best Cheshire cat grin, which probably means I'm smiling like I kill people in my basement. He's waiting for The Moment, when our lips finally touch, when the moon will fall out of the sky, when buildings will collapse, when the earth will collapse, because I know we'll unmake the fucking universe with this kiss.

" I forgot something." I say, giggling manically, exaggeratedly slurring my speech to blackout-won't-remember-a-damn-thing-in-the-morning drunk. Magnus pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. I want that lip on my mouth. Alright Alec. Calm down. "Hurry back." He half whines, and I wonder if he has some liquid courage in him as well. "Or I might start without you." Even (possibly) drunk, his every word is flirty-sexy-confident. Un-fucking-believable.

I stumble out the door keeping up the overly drunk facade. I dance-walk through the throng of people grinding on the dance floor, grab my bag on the bar stool and walk out the door.

Magnus POV

I know the grin on my face is ridiculously big and if any person walked into the bathroom and took in my serial killer smile, crazy eyes, tousled hair, they might be inclined to call the police. I pause, I don't even know his name and he's already everything. The way he smiles, the way he's shy but strong, the way his eyes are holding so many secrets, secrets I want to crack open and discover. Just…everything. I can't stop replaying that moment.

He had looked so lost drinking his scotch alone at the bar, I simply had to talk to him. He's a magnet, pulling me in. Why isn't he here right now, kissing me, touching me, melting me? I try to remember his words but my half intoxicated brain won't remember.

Ah, fuck it. I walk out of the bathroom, scanning the dark crowd for those eyes. I can't even describe the color of his eyes. They're bluer than the sun lit sky after a storm, than the oceans in Hawaii, than anything else in the world. They're better. They're iridescent blue with flecks of gold, brown, hazel, white. Losing myself in his eyes will never be enough for me.

Then I see him walk out the door.

My heart is

dropping…

dropping…

dropping…

shattered.

He's everything but I'm already nothing.

I shouldn't care. He should just be another guy, another guy in the crowd of hundreds.

But I do, and I feel my feet walking towards the door, slapping the pavement, calling "Hey!" to his back.

His dark figure stops walking. He has a black leather satchel with him that I didn't notice before. How could I have missed that? It must have been hanging on his bar chair and I was too absorbed with him to see it… He looks back at me finally. Our eyes lock, and while those eyes were misty waters, bright oceans, and summer skies before, they're icy glaciers now, frozen and absolutely impenetrable. He smirks at me in a sneaky gotcha way, and he takes off into the night so fast it's like he was never there in the first place.

A white piece of paper escapes his bag, and lands on the black concrete a few feet in front of me. The dim orange street light reveals it's a profile on somebody. I jog towards it, picking it up. It's about me.

He has a profile on me.

He's not my everything.

He's the youngest, most famous drug dealer in New York.


	4. The Bosses

I need God, or Zeus, or Buddha, or whoever's running the show up there to get their holy asses down to Earth now, because we need to have a conversation. Not so much of a conversation perhaps, maybe just me yelling, "WHY THE FUCK?" Because why the fuck did they have to make Mr. McSteamy? God/Zeus/Buddha/Whoever must have been like "You know, I'm in the mood to really fuck with Magnus's life, so let's make a guy he really likes into a drug dealer! Won't that be great fun?"

I moan and bang my head on my desk… way too hard. A resonating thump occurs, making my hung over head hurt even more. I hear a chuckle. I look up, Ragnor is leaning against the door frame watching me.

"Hard night there, Bane?" He shakes his head. "Are you going to tell him what happened last night?" He gives me one of his eyebrow raising stares. Ragnor is my best friend, my mom, my dad, my brother, my grandmother, every relative possible, all rolled into one annoying pain in the ass. Lovable pain in the ass, but pain in the ass none the less. He and the captain both know of my out of work activities but the Captain makes it sound like we're talking about prostate examinations.

Sure, it's the 21st century and nobody should give a shit if you like penises or vaginas or both, but in the cop community it does. Not in a homophobic way, it's more listed under the Things We Don't Talked About list. But I know I have to and so does Ragnor. Hence the eyebrow raise.

"I'm so hung over right now…" I try to complain but Ragnor's eyebrow shoots up so far it's almost getting tangled in his blond white hair. I groan, stand up slowly, and walk through the door while grumbling about how big an asshat Ragnor is while he just chuckles.

I knock on the chief's door, and hear the Wizard-of-Oz-like-boom, "Enter!" I'm telling you, the chief would make a kickass Wizard of Oz. I walk in to see that the Chief's giving me an eyebrow raise. There must be a special night class I'm missing out on about this eyebrow raise.

"Bane. What is it?" He booms, already as if I'm guilty of something. So I tell him details of last night, except for well, all the details about me and mystery man making out, humping, and almost getting naked. Basically, just that he came onto me and I found out that he's the drug dealer.

"So…Umh." He cleared his throat. I bite back a laugh. He's so uncomfortable, I almost feel sorry for him. "What's your plan of action?"

I blank, I didn't really have a plan.

"Errrm, I thought maybe we could use me to get to him? I mean if he likes me and thinks I'm double crossing the police, I'll earn his trust. And I can tell you who his contact is and when his next deal is, so you can bust him?" I have no idea where the hell these words are coming from, but there coming and I can't seem to stop. This doesn't feel right. I shouldn't care. I _don't _care. I shake the feeling off.

He pauses, stroking his chin for a few moments. It's honestly like he wants me to burst out laughing.

"Okay." I hear him boom… I think. Wait, did he just say okay? My befuddled expression must have clued him in, because next he says, "Yes, Bane. I said yes. I do that on occasion" completed with a pretty spectacular eye roll. He's a World Class eyebrow raiser and eye roller. Now, that's just unfair.

I nod, and begin to leave his office before I double back.

"How exactly am I going to do this, Chief?" I asked.

"FIGURE IT OUT, BANE! LEAVE!" He booms at me so loud the force from it practically propels me out of his office. That and fear of getting my balls ripped off.

When you get summoned to meet Camile anywhere, you're either screwed or about to become very wealthy. Camile is The Boss of All Bosses. She can buy anything, do anything; the woman is practically Superwoman. Which is probably due to her cut throat mentality, as in keep making money or we'll dispose of you. Camile and I have had a long standing relationship and to be honest, I think I'm her favorite. Especially with the men. I'm young, handsome, and supplying drugs. For me, it's a love-hate relationship. It differs day to day.

We both seem to understand the deal. We are not in the business of making friends, we're in the business of making millions of dollars in cash in exchange for drugs. We sell our product however we can, because at the end of the day it's not about the person who's buying or the person who's selling; it's all about the money. When I was first breaking in, this was a difficult lesson to learn. A lesson that has since kept me from being drinking buddies with Camile. As for the risks it brings, Camile was a very good persuader.

Today, I got a message to meet her at The Masa. As well as being the wealthiest women in New York, she might also be the most pretentious. Only she would pick a restaurant where a single meal is five hundred per person for a plate of fish wrapped in seaweed. The restaurant is a low light affair, with fancy table cloths and Camile sitting dead center in the room. She smiles, waving me over with a jingle of her gold bracelets.

"Alec, darling. Sit." Camile has this strange way of talking where everything she says instantly compels you to do whatever she says. She's a snake charmer of humans, which is why she has a list of lovers so extensive it goes from New York to Florida.

"Alright, I'm here. Should I start to learn how to breathe underwater or should I make room in my bank account?" I ask her calmly. Camile has always liked my straight to the point quality. She smiles knowingly, pouts her blood red lips.

"Why Alec, I am insulted. I would never do that to my favorite seller, would I?" She says, with her hand over her heart. I raise my eyebrows, and waving her hand at me she mumbles, "No fun." She takes out her phone, and slides it across the table to me. There's a picture of a Hispanic man with a cell phone on it. He looks pissed. I look closer at the photo and gasp.

"That's Guillermo Alvarado." I state, trying to keep all emotion out of my voice. Alvarado just happens to be one of Mexico's top crime bosses. If he wants some of ours and our shit is good enough that if he likes it, we become his suppliers. It also means that if anything goes wrong, I am going to be shot in the head. Camile smiles her sweet as pie smile and I want to punch her.

"A challenge. I know you're up to it. It's happening tonight. Bring me the money and I'll cut you in 30 percent." Big chance, big money. Camile has never offered 30 before. That's going to be 1.5 million dollars. The money is never what entices me, although it helps. It's the rush, it's the risk, the high. This one could mean death.

"I'll be there." I smirk, like the addict I am.

"Alec?" Camile says, her words laced with poison with frosting on top. "Do not disappoint me. Especially, with what happened the other night." Glancing at her phone again, she sighs, stands, air kisses me and glides away, leaving me alone.


	5. The Flashbacks

Alec POV

_I was the coldest I had ever been in my entire life. My possessions consisted of an old duffel bag with some clothes, a blanket, and a toothbrush. I was huddled under that blanket with as many clothes I could fit on my body, and yet I felt so cold. The freezing air clung hard to any available skin, which was my neck and head. Once they were cold, the blanket and the clothes seemed pointless. The shivering at that point had gotten so bad, I was practically having convulsions. Worse still, was the movie on repeat in my head. The arguing, the look, the crash, the screaming. Then getting tossed out like last week's trash. I could still feel my cheek lying on the cold pavement as my mother screamed in agony. _

_ I was begging for death to come. I wasn't asking, I was begging, pleading, if there was a God, Angel, Holy being, they would take my life from me. That was when I heard the sound of high heeled shoes coming towards me. From my former life, I knew the sound of expensive high heels marching their way up to me to tell me. Of course, I was never interested, so my immediate emotion was dread. Then came the fear. So I pulled my shivering body into a somewhat upright position, only to see a platinum bottle blonde marching her long, model legs over to me. _

_ She took a long pause over my quaking body. Probably took in the designer watch but nearly blue skin and red, bloodshot eyes. She was wearing black slacks with a blood red blouse, and Jimmy Choo black fuck-me heels. She bent down so that she was eye level with me, and I noticed her eyes. While most green eyes I had seen reminded me of green trees, freshly mowed grass, hers reminded me of the poison. She looked almost…predatory._

_ "Hmm. You are much too beautiful to be homeless." She stated, as if it were common knowledge. "You're lucky you met me. I need new prime real estate for my little business.' She spoke with a particular enunciation, drawing out every syllable. It was entrancing. Part of me wanted to slap her for sounding like she already owned me, but I needed a reason. I needed some motivation to live, and I knew this was it. She handed me a card from the inside of her jacket. _

_ "Camile Belcourt. Just know that I don't offer take backs, so you're either in this or you're not. Think carefully." And with that, her heels clacked away. _

_ I barely had to think at all. The next day I was in her office in the city, looking like the kind of person my family would cringe at. I was wearing old, faded jeans that I hadn't worn in years, my only hoodie that I owned, complemented by my five o'clock shadow. I winced at how I looked but these were the warmest clothes I had and it was freezing outside. It was so strange to think about. Never in my life had I worried about such an inconsequential thing as weather. There were always heated limos, expensive designer down jackets, and warm beds with silk sheets. Now I just wanted a nice blanket so I wouldn't freeze to death. _

_ "So darling, before I do this I have to ask one more time and if you don't mind, I'll be very blunt." She said, her hard emerald eyes settling on mine. I tried to gaze back at her with an unconcerned expression, but my fear was leaking through. "Don't look so terrified. But I am going to tell you that this is your last chance to back out. You can leave this office, and go back to your little warehouse where you'll shiver in the cold. But if I tell you my proposition, I can promise you the world. Money, freedom, _anonymity_, all yours." Her venom eyes twinkled as she saw me perk up at 0the benefit of anonymity. _

_ "Oh yes. I can create a whole new identity for you, where _no one_ will ever find you. Whatever you've done, whoever you were, will be gone as if you never existed. I can do that for you." She had me, and she knew it. But I had to think, because there was a catch to all of this. _

_"Okay, tell me what happens if you tell me this proposition and I want to walk away?" I ask, tentatively, although I already knew the answer. It was written all over her clothes and her demon eyes. She was not a woman that was going to let you fuck her over. _

_"I'll put a bullet in your skull, and throw you into the East River." She said nonchalantly, looking at her nails. The thought gave me chills, but it didn't scare me. Not really. There was nothing else I could fucked up, no one to disappoint, nothing to lose. But maybe this would give me something to gain. _

_So I felt my lips utter, "Okay, whatever it is I'm in."_

_She explained to me her operation. She wanted to run a large business, which was riskier than other drug businesses. She had a supplier who dealt in large shipments, so she would store them in a warehouse under a fake name, and then we would sell them. The large shipments were key because she planned to sell to big buyers. But big buyers meant good dealers, so she needed a couple lackeys who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Like me. That night would be the "test," where if I would be selling a small amount of our stuff. If I could deliver, she would hand me the key to the world. If I didn't, I was getting a bullet in the back of my head. _

_"So do us both a favor tonight, and use those baby blues to your advantage." Camile said, dropping a wink. I had no idea what she meant. I had no idea what I was in for that night. I had no idea, but I was a throw away, and I didn't care. Anything was better than waiting for the hurt to go away. _

Magnus POV

I can't stop looking at this fucking ceiling. It's as if I hope it'll start talking to me, give me a freakin' clue on how I'm supposed to catch this guy. I know I look undeniably crazy, but looking at this white, speckled, ceiling usually helps me think. However, it doesn't seem to be helping me today. I've been sitting here for almost two hours, trying to figure out a way I can find him. I can't exactly put up wanted posters, he'd just flee.

No traces of him were found on that roof, and the bartender at the club had never even seen him before. He's a ghost, but his face is plastered in my mind. Ice cold blue eyes, pale face, and lips twisted up into a crooked smirk. His face is all I can think of and it's driving me crazy.

His face, his voice, his body, is everywhere in my mind, and I can't decide if I want to kill him or jump him. At the bar he seemed like the sort of unique person that one may stumble upon once every couple of years, if they're lucky. He's entrancing, but not just because he's beautiful. There are scorns of beautiful people covering the face of this Earth. I'll freely admit it; I think I'm one of them. But he's someone my mother would call an afflicted. It was her term for good people who have had more shitty things happen to them than most. She would know the best; she was one of them.

But then, voice in my head creeps back in and says, _He was playing you Magnus _and I want to punch something again. I give up and start to leave when I see Ragnor, practically flying down the hall at me. The biggest shit eating grin is plastered on his face and he's waving around a piece of paper like a maniac.

"Bane, you are going to want jump me so bad because I got him!" Ragnor practically squeals. Ragnor Fell does not squeal. This must be good.

"Believe me darling, I have offered." I reply, accompanied by a smirk and a wink. At the mention of the first time we met, Ragnor's eyes reach the back of his skull.

_Sweat dripped down my body as I danced, but I didn't care. I knew I looked even better when I was a little hot and sweaty. My shirt barely had any substance to it, so I was cool enough. But I had come to Joe's to get laid, and thus far it had been slim pickings. It had been quite a few days and I was aching for a good fuck. I danced my way to the dark corners of the club where I liked to think. The walls were pleasantly cold as I leaned against them and caught my breath. My eyes darted from guy to guy with no luck. I was bored with all the ripped muscles and subpar conversation. I wanted a challenge_

_ But then the universe seemed to give me one. My eyes had wandered up to the bar, where one of the prettiest guys I had ever seen was sitting. He was wearing a deep green t-shirt, with blue jeans. If I wasn't drunk, horny, and insanely attracted to him, I might have laughed at his fashion choices. No one wears such casual clothes to any club. Putting on my best smirk, I crossed the dance floor over to his stool. _

_"You have to stop that, you know." I drop my voice down to a half whisper and lean my slender torso against the bar. Raising my hand, Joe sees me and starts making my usual. _

_He raised his head in surprise. He had ink black eyes, while his hair balanced his face out by being nearly white. He, much like me, was slender faced with high cheek bones. His face was angel-like, but those eyes looked devilish. He was an intoxicatingly good looking contradiction. _

_"I'm sorry?..." He had a rich London accent heavy enough to melt me. He looked adorably confused. Modest. That was new. _

_ "I'm just saying, sweetness. Keep looking so unbelievably pretty and you have no one to blame but yourself if I simply must have my way with you." My words glided out smoothly like I've been doing this forever. The words seemed to have registered in his brain because his mouth pops open in an "Oh" shape. I wanted that mouth on my body. _

_ "Sorry about this, but I'm afraid I don't partake in the same bedroom activities as you do." He said with a smile. Londoners. Polite bastards. I sighed, and sat down. _

_ "In that case, you're buying me another drink." I stated, waving to Joe. _

_ "Presumptuous little prick, aren't you?" He replied with a smirk. _

_ "Magnus Bane, presumptuous little prick." I shot back, extending my hand._

_ Ragnor Fell, heterosexual little prick." Laughing, I clinked my dirty martini to his beer glass and our friendship was born. _

That was 4 years ago. Ragnor lost the accent, I lost my man whore status (well, mostly) but we're still the same friends we were back in that bar. I learned that soon after that, by some random occurrence, that Ragnor was going to be my new partner. I smile, because that day changed my life. I hear Ragnor speak again, reminding me of the present news at hand.

"Just look at the damn picture, you horny son of a bitch." He hands me a blown up version of a Hispanic looking man talking on a cell phone. My mouth practically hits the floor.

"JESUS FUCK, THAT'S GUILLERMO ALVARADO!" I scream. Ragnor nods spastically.

"AND this picture was taken this afternoon, AND the word on the street is that he's meeting your guy at Hotel Dumort." Ragnor jumps up and down excitedly.

"Tonight? What time?" I ask. I glance at the clock, 11:34pm. If it was happening, it was probably going down soon. Drug dealers liked the cover of night to protect them.

"In just a few hours." He says, holding up his keys. "I'm driving."

Alec POV

I've never been a fan of guns. They're awkward, heavy, and I have this fear of forgetting to put on the safety and accidentally shooting myself in the ass or something. But Guillermo Alvarado is the most powerful man in Mexico, who is trying to do a very illegal thing with someone he's never met before. It almost borders on stupidity, if he wasn't a multimillionaire and has killed more people than years he's been alive. Hence, why the tiny gun tucked into an ankle holster is necessary.

I shiver from bite of the cold breeze coming in but mostly from the anticipation. Alvarado wanted to meet at the abandoned Hotel Dumort. I'm standing in what I'm guessing was the ball room, from the dusty tables and the huge glass chandelier that's been smashed on the floor. A figure shifts out of the darkness. Guillermo Alvarado stands in the door way, smiling at me predatorily. He makes his way over to where I'm standing. He looks... kind. He looks like a grandfather. With deep chocolate eyes, an overly tan wrinkled face, and a devastatingly charming smile, it's hard to believe this guy has killed over 70 people.

He pulls out a cigar, lights it, and hands it to me. "Cuban. Whenever there is business to be done, a cigar needs to be had." His rich accent is pleasantly smooth. If I didn't know how fast he could shoot me, I might be charmed. I take the damn cigar anyways. He claps his tan wrinkled hands. "So. I have cigar for you. What do you have for me?" The case of drugs in my hands suddenly feels heavier. I lift it, set it on a broken ballroom table, and show the insides to Alvarado. Five rows of white powder in clear bags line the inside of my bag.

"This, of course is just a small taste. You can sample it if you'd like, as well. But let's talk price. For the amount you want, Camile was hoping for 5.5 million." I always over shoot what we should get for our coke. If they agree with me, they're an idiot. If they don't, they're a serious client and hopefully they'll ask for what we were actually looking for. "I'll give you 4.5." Alvarado says, as if he's doing us a favor. Drug negotiation is like a dance. A tango, with each partner feeling each other out, trying to get a feel for the rhythm. Just with money and possible death on the line. "5.2." I say firmly, but while returning his smile.

He chuckles and says, "Hell, let's just call it 5 million and get the fuck out of this place." We shake hands, and just when I'm about to leave I hear slow clacks coming towards us. Our heads turn to Camile who has suddenly appeared. Wearing a blood red dress, obscenely high heels and grasping onto a black leather Chanel clutch, she looks her usual stripper business casual.

"Great job, darling."


	6. An AN

Hi sorry, I know you were expecting an update.

Sorry to have disappointed you, but I'd thought I'd just make a quick little note to check in here.

I know a lot of authors on here who don't update for a couple of weeks and you're like... "BUT I GOTS TO KNOW!"

Don't worry, I'm not ending this fic.

Sadly my computer died on me and the next chapter was lost. :(

I was trying to fix my computer since then but I think it's gone for good. So that means I have to start that chapter over.

And it was looooooooonnnnng. (It was also about to get really interesting...)

So until then, just hang on! I'm working, don't worry! (And I saved my outline for the story elsewhere so hope is not lost!) Thank you for all your support by the way, I've never written a chapter story and every review makes me write a little faster.

So yeah... that's it.

Oh and I may do another one of these but with Jem/Will in a relationship? Kind of a strange pairing but my idea is really good and I think you'll like it? Unless you guys are dead set against it, I'll apply it to another pairing but I'm hoping you'll take the leap with me! Oh and it'll probably be in 3rd person because I'm having a lot of trouble writing Cat and Magnus in first, and I think my writing will be better in third.

Okay, be patient and wait for me darlings!

(CHOOSE ME, PICK ME, LOVE ME. Sorry couldn't help it...)


	7. The Deal

**Thank you for being patient! This was literally hell on Earth to try to fix, but hopefully it came out okay!**

**Enjoy! **

**Thank you for being patient! This was literally hell on Earth to try to fix, but hopefully it came out okay! **

**Enjoy! **

"Great job, darling."

Alvarado whips out a gun, cocking and aiming it at my head in record time. My cigar and my stomach drop to the floor. This was not good.

I swallow hard, "Camille, what the hell?

She slinks over to stand behind Alvarado; her heals clacking like ammunition dropping against the floor. The sound echoes around the room, slicing through the dead silence. Out of her purse she pulls a white sheet of paper, and turns it so I can see. The image is blurry, but it's there all the same. It's me practically dry humping Magnus Bane against the bathroom wall at Joe's. His eyes are closed tight in ecstasy, my hands pin his to the wall. If my face had been turned slightly to the left, no one would even be able to recognize me. Someone must have been in the handicap stall taking these.

"Camile, I can explain." I try to stay calm, hoping she would let me clarify the situation.

"Darling, did you really think I wouldn't find out about your little police lover? I have eyes all over the city." She's smirking, but underneath I can hear her anger vibrate under that smug tone. Camile hates to be left in the dark about anything. Yeah, it was a dim hope she'd actually let me explain myself.

"I didn't-" I try to say, but she quickly cuts me off with a hand.

"Don't even try, darling. I warned you a long time ago about what would happen if you fucked me over." Camille says viciously, letting her complete bitch mode surface under her façade.

"Come on lady, can I just kill him now?" Alvarado says, his hand tightening on the gun.

"No actually, you can't." A familiar voice causes all of us to turn our heads. Magnus Bane is walking slowly towards us with a gun in his hand. Coming through the same doorway as we came, he's quickly followed by a man with platinum blond hair. _Damn, he's gorgeous too. What is with this police force? _But a voice in my head says, _not as gorgeous as Bane though. _I try to push away my inner monologue away and focus on what's happening. Things are getting very surreal, very fast. Magnus has his gun pointed at me, while his partner has his gun on Alvarado with his eyes glancing at Camile.

"Really gentleman? Let's be civil." Alvarado says, as he slowly lowers his gun towards the floor instead of my body. Magnus scoffs and rolls his eyes, but lowers his gun slightly. Alvarado quickly flicks his eyes over to Camile, sharing a mutual look.

_Oh fuck. _

Alvarado straightens his arm to shoot me again as Camile pulls a gun out of her purse and starts shooting. The dead silent room is now exploding with sound as I dive under the table. I hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of myself. I feel something warm and wet on my left bicep. Ignoring it, I roll out from under the table and run like hell to the five feet in front of me to get to the door. I hear bullets hitting the wall just as I run into the dark hallway.

"You take the woman and Alvarado, I got him!" Magnus yells. I can feel my blood gush down my arm. I don't have time to close to wrap anything around the wound, so I put my hand over it for now. I just have to hope that I don't bleed out before I get out of this fucking hotel. The adrenaline coursing through my body is keeping me from feeling the pain, but I doubt that will last long.

While trying to keep my arm still, I wiggle my phone out of my pocket and flick it open. The hallway is now somewhat illuminated and I thank all the gods for my shitty flip phone. I sprint around another corner, looking for the door to the basement. Luckily, this hotel has cellar doors that open to an alleyway in the back.

Faint footsteps pound towards me. I try to run faster but it makes my wound bleed faster. I can feel my head getting fuzzier but I eventually see a door. After throwing it open, I manage to slow down a bit. Stone steps are right at the bottom of the stairs, and I have never been happier to see anything in my life. I lift the rusty door open with my good arm and step into the cool night. I glance down at my hand that has been holding my wound. It's bright red, and there are three of them.

And at that moment, the adrenaline starts to dissipate.

A small burning sensation in my bicep goes from irritation to feeling like my arm is on fire in fifty seconds or less. I look up to the street where the walls to both of my sides are swaying and I can only see flashing blurs ahead of me. I can feel my body slide down against the wall. I need to get up and keep moving but my entire arm pulses with burning pain. It feels like someone set my arm on fire and is burning away all my flesh. My vision makes me feel like I'm wearing glasses in the shower, so I have a very hard time hearing whatever words Magnus Bane says as he comes to stand over my body.

My eyes are slowly closing, I can't hear anything, and the world has just slid away. And it's nice. Besides feeling like I want to cut my own arm off, it's nice. I never thought bleeding out would be nice, but it is, it's so nice. I have never realized how tired I am. I'm so tired. I'm still so young but it feels like I'm a fifty year old inside an eighteen year olds body. I've been through the hell and back so many times, so many times I've pleaded to whatever, whoever, to just let me die. I'm tired of being disappointed. This time, I am going to die.

Magnus POV

His icy blues are slowly clothed by pale skin and ink black eyelashes and suddenly, I want to hit him. _No, you're not getting off that easy. _All the anger that's been brewing inside me since the club is coming to a head, and I channel all of that energy into the slap I give him across his face. His eyes pop open up again, but they're not staring at me with their full intensity yet. I put my face a foot from like when we were at the club. But instead of looking at him with pure lust, I'm looking at him with pure anger.

"NO! YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DIE. YOU ARE GOING TO FACE JUSTICE, GODDAMN IT! NOW WAKE UP. DO NOT SLIP AWAY, DO NOT GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT OR WHATEVER, JUST STAY THE FUCK AWAKE. I KNOW YOU CAN DO THAT, YOU BASTARD." I scream at him. He perks up slightly, but I know he's still a million miles away.

"Hey, I know you're reeeeeeaaaally mad at me because of the whole bar thing, but I just want you to know something. I need you to know that you still look beautiful even without makeup. Even with your uniform on." He manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. I try hard not to smile, and remain pissed. I should be pissed. I AM pissed.

"Shut up." I snap, as I rip his other shirt sleeve away and retie it roughly around his wound. He winces, and his eyes look like they're going to shut again. "Hey." I say in a clear, hard voice. "Don't make me slap you again."

"Oh, but I bet you would like that, wouldn't you?" His smile is oddly charming and goofy, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I roll my eyes and stand up.

"So what are you going to do with me?" He asks. "I mean, right now? Because obviously, you don't want me to die and that's what will happen if you just leave me here. Alvarado will find me or Camile or I'll bleed out. But if you try to book me, I'll definitely bleed out before we get there and I'll die then. "A thought seems to be especially entertaining to him because he starts giggling. "Short of taking me to the hospital, you're screwed. And if you take me to the hospital, you'll look bad because you were supposed to book me whether I'm going to die or not."

"Then shut up and don't die, okay?" I take my phone out and call Catarina.

"Magnus, it's 3am. This better be good." Cat says, her usual lovely morning self. When I don't hear another flirty answer from him, I look over again. His eyes are closed and his body is slack.

"Shit." I slap his face lightly, but he doesn't wake up this time.

"Magnus? Magnus, what happened?" Cat says, now sounding fully awake and worried.

"Emergency. I need supplies to treat a gunshot wound in my apartment in ten minutes. I'm fine but my uh, friend isn't."

It's Catarina, and annoying as she is sometimes, she will always be there for me. So I put my jacket over his shoulder's to cover the wound, and put his good arm around my neck because I already know the answer. Cat agrees, but with a five minute buffer to grab supplies.

I pull/drag him to the curb, he's surprisingly light for his build. Leaning him against me, I wave my hand like a maniac trying to track down a taxi. _Magnus, what the hell are you doing? _


	8. The Nightmares

Alec POV

"He's stable for now, Magnus. I redressed his wound which is looking okay for now, and I set up an IV. Magnus, he lost a lot of blood."

Hushed voices break through the barrier of my subconsciousness. A woman is talking to Magnus about me. _No!_ I want to shout. _Just let me die!_ But no words can be summoned to my lips when I attempt to move them, nor will the fifty pound weights that are attached to my eyelids cease their monstrous burden. I am buried under a foggy haze.

"What happens now?" Magnus murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. He sounds...concerned. But why? I want to try to ask him this myself but my thought is cut off by the sound of the woman speaking again.

"Now we wait for an infection to settle in the wound or he'll heal on his own." The woman says cooly. I can tell she's trying to be nonchalant about this whole situation but at the same time, she's probably not okay with trying to heal a criminal. She should have just let me die... And with that thought, Magnus's voice is the last thing I hear as I slip away again.

Along with the other occupational hazards of being a drug dealer, come the nightmares. Nightmares that are so bad, you wake up in a cold sweat screaming your ass off. You take deep breaths, like your teachers used to tell you to do when you got mad, and try to understand that all that shit was over now. That it didn't matter. That it was in the past. And then the next night the torture would repeat.

It's no different tonight.

_I'm standing at the end of the Hudson River pier watching the ocean. It's five minutes before two am so it's almost time. My stomach is twisting itself in knots with anxiety. It's my first time selling. I try to focus on the black darkness of the water, lapping against the green moldy poles of the pier. I hear soft steps, so I look up. I was concentrating so hard on the water, I didn't even see him. A younger looking man in a dark suit is about fifty feet away from me. It's time. _

_As he comes closer, I see that he's not as young as I thought. He looks about thirty, and I can already tell he's filthy rich. He's wearing a two thousand dollar Armani black suit with a shiny charcoal tie. He has a strong jawline with minimal stubble, perfect cheekbones, with milk chocolate eyes. He's gorgeous. The corner of his mouth twitches up in amusement. _

_"Well, well, I didn't certainly didn't expect Camile to send a little twinkie. She must have high hopes for you if she's sending you to me." His every syllable is drawn out and cocky. I have an overwhelming urgency to punch him in the face. But for some reason, he still seems dangerous. _

_"Do you have the money or not? Because I have better uses for my time than standing out here at two am shooting the shit with you." I try to put as much edge in my voice as possible, but the guy merely smirks at me. _

_"Ah, we have a brawler don't we? Fair enough, you show me yours and I'll show you mine." Even in the dark, his twisted smile could light up a thousand baseballs fields. _

_I put my suitcase on the ground and show him the packets of cocaine that are inside. I hear him chuckle. _

_"How much is in there?" He asks, his head cocking to one side._

_"Thirty, just like we said." I stutter. _

_"No, I said forty five. Where the hell is the rest of it?" He growls with annoyance. His face that looked calm and beautiful a second ago, now twists into something ugly and unnerving. My stomach that has been twisting itself smaller and smaller, suddenly drops so fast I can practically hear its impact at the base of my gut. _

_"I, I, I..." I stutter. I have no idea what to do. Then, he smiles like a predator who just captured its prey. _

_"Well, you'll just have to pay me in a different way." Before I can even run, I'm slammed hard into the ground. My head bangs hard against the wood and I can taste blood in my mouth. I can feel his full body weight pressing on top of me, pining me down. I try to scream, but he covers my mouth with his hand. _

_"No one can hear you." He whispers, his voice dripping with menace. He releases his hand on my mouth and sticks his tongue down my throat. His tongue probes around in my mouth, and I feel him roughly slide his hand under my shirt. He grinds his hardness into me, and I try to use my hips to buck him off. Suddenly, the tongue is gone, and his hand slaps my face hard._

_"Naughty boy. You will hold still." He tells me with gritted teeth._

_My cheek burns while he holds my chin tight and doesn't let go. Sticking his tongue back in my mouth, he's gone back to what he's doing in an instant. I bite hard on his tongue. He screams and pulls back in anguish so I take the opportunity to grab his suitcase and run as hard as I can down the pier. _

_Suddenly, Magnus Bane is there. He has never been in any of my dreams before. But there he is, in his uniform looking as perfect as ever. I see him take out his gun, and start shooting. He tells me to run, and I soar past him. I glance back just in time to see a bullet hit him square in the chest. I scream. _

My eyes snap open and I'm still screaming. Tears are pouring down my face and I can't stop. My body curls, and as it does I feel a set of arms that are wrapped around me. As I sob, I hear Magnus's voice saying, "Shhh. It's okay." I weep even harder, because the idea of being comforted hasn't even crossed my mind in so long. I just hold onto those arms for dear life.

Magnus POV

His anguished scream is the first thing I hear when my eyes snap open. _He's screaming?_ I jump off the couch and run down my hall to the my bedroom. He's twisting around in the bed, just screaming. He's having a nightmare. Slowly, I walk towards the bed. Realizing that he has an IV in, I hop on the bed and wrap my arms around him. He'll pull the IV out, and I really don't want to have to call Cat again. She was already a little ticked about treating a known drug dealer, but she knows I would do the same for her.

He's still flaying his arms around wildly, so I tighten my hold around his torso. "Shhhhh, it's okay. Everything is going to be fine." He's crying hard now, curling up into a ball. I know he's awake, but he doesn't push me away. Instead, he holds onto me tighter.

From my angle, all I can see is his back and his wounded bicep. He's got some muscle, but he's still a little too skinny. But from what I see, which are the smooth lines of his back, he's gorgeous. I forget sometimes how young he is. He's still a teenager and already he's seen most of the hurt the world has to offer.

_How did you get like this? _


	9. When everything changes

My eyes have stopped feeling like they weigh ten thousand pounds, so I can finally open my eyes. I look around expecting to be in my own empty bed. Instead, Magnus Bane is sleeping in the chair across from the bed. I glance around the room, I'm in his place. Surprisingly, he's fairly messy. Scraps of fabric that seem way too tight for a cop to be wearing are scattered around the room. His bed is a comfy purple affair, adorned with black sparkly pillows. To the right of the bed he has a gigantic window which is pouring soft light into the room. I'm surprised it didn't wake him up. Then I realize. Oh, he's exhausted because he was spooning you all night. Fuck.

I pan over Bane himself, who looks like hell. Deep circles are underneath his eyes, his hair a messy wreck. He's wearing a black teeshirt with matching black boxers. My cock twitches. Even when he's a wreck, he's still sexy as all fuck. Roaming back up to his face, I reevaluate. His face is so peaceful despite the fact he held my sob wracked body for hours. He looks like a fallen angel. Feeling self conscience, I glance down to my own he left my jeans on, but I'm shirtless. FUCK. He saw them.

Ugly white lines coat my skin. All over my arms, here and there on my stomach and my chest. I desperately search for my shirt. I spot it on the bed to my left, but as I lean over to grab it something metal bites into my ankle. Throwing the comforter off I see that he's handcuffed my right foot to the post of the bed.

"You're shitting me, right? You know my arm has a bullet lodged into it?" I mutter mostly to myself as I gingerly pull my shirt on with some difficulty.

"Well, I had to make sure you weren't going to leave. You don't exactly have the best track record." He replies, scaring the shit out of me. I make a startled high pitched noise that is not attractive in any way. I look up. He's staring at me with sleepy yet alert eyes. Yawning, he stretches in the chair. It probably isn't the most comfortable thing to sleep on.

"Jesus Christ. How long have you been awake?" I ask, trying my best to sound casual. You're not succeeding in the least. Smooth, Alec.

"A while. This thing is not comfy at all." He replies, echoing my earlier thought and giving me a teasing smile.

"You could have just slept here. I don' t have cooties, I promise." I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I didn't think you wanted us to sleep together." He says, dropping his tone down to a quiet sexy whisper. His golden eyes have settled on mine, his gaze burning into me. The way he's looking at me should be illegal and I can feel the color rising to my cheeks, ensuring I look like a tomato. Thankfully, he takes pity on me and releases me from his stare.

"You want breakfast?' He asks, casually as he pulls some silky purple pajama pants on.

I give a short laugh. "Breakfast?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. It seems like such a mundane activity. Ordinary has never been an aspect from my life, even before I was selling drugs for money.

"Yes, breakfast. The meal that comes before lunch, usually consisting of eggs cooked in a pan? Or at least it does in my house." Magnus muses, as he walks out of the room. Before he walks out of the room, he stops and turns around.

"Just wait here. Don't go anywhere." He smirks, winking. I flip him off, but he just chuckles and walks away, swinging his hips in a way that he knows I would be watching. He's definitely flirting with me, but why? I'm a criminal, one that probably hasn't made life too easy for him. What is his game? I have to get out of here.

About fifteen minutes later, I can smell the eggs being cooked and it's making me crazy. I haven't eaten in... Wait, how long have I been here? I'm still thinking about it when Magnus comes back in with a plate of pale yellow, fluffy eggs. He hands the plate and a fork to me and sits back down in his chair.

"How long have I been here?" I ask, as I put a mouthful of eggs into my mouth. They're delicious. Possibly the best eggs I've ever had.

"You've been out for two days. Your arm is not infected, and you don't need a blood transfusion. Which is good, because I'm not sure how I would get you one. Cat says you're the luckiest person to be shot she's ever seen." He explains.

I give a harsh laugh. "Lucky is never a word I would have used to describe myself."

"How would you describe yourself?" He questions, as he raises his eyebrows.

"What are you going to do with me, Bane? What's the end game here?" I answer, hoping to distract him. It works. He runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs.

"I don't know yet. You're deflecting. Fine, just tell me your name." Magnus shoots back. Deflection denied.

"Gideon Wood." It's the name that's on all the official documents Camile has bought me. Only she knows me as Alec, but the world sees me as orphaned Gideon Wood. He has a rich aunt that gives him large chunks of money every month, but he stays in an average apartment. He's a nobody, a fly on the wall. I try to draw as little attention to myself as possible.

Magnus chuckles. "Okay. That's a good name. You know I'm a cop, and eventually I'm going to find your real one right?"

Finishing my eggs, I set my plate down next to me. "Yeah, but what's life without a little mystery?" I answer, giving a smirk right back to him.

"You are one big mystery. What were you dreaming about last night?" He asks, quietly. I hesitate. No one has been around to ask me what I dreamt about for a long time. Just telling anything personal to anyone seems strange and foreign. I look up to tell him no or some other bullshit excuse, but he's giving me a look. Those freaking eyes. They're burning into my soul, pleading with me to just tell him something. Goddamnit.

So I tell him. As I tell him, it begins to feel more natural. With every word, another knot is loosened in my heart. All the while, Magnus listens and nods along like he understands. And the weirdest thing is, it feels like he does. I keep going until the part where he shows up in my dream and I pause. He patiently waits for me to continue, and so I go on.

"And uh, then you appeared telling me to run. So I ran past you, and when I turned around to look at you, the guy shot you in the chest." I stutter out, fixing my eyes on the comforter.

"Have I ever been in any of your dreams before?" He asks me, quietly. I shake my head no.

"I guess if that guy had been in any of my dreams, I would have woke up screaming too."

"Yeah, he was a real son of a bitch." I admit, nodding.

"Wait, all of that was real?" He asks, his voice raising.

"All of it, except when you showed up. That was new."

He looks befuddled. He runs his hand through his hair again. "Was that your first time dealing? Why did you keep doing it?" He implores, sounding a bit exasperated.

"That's another story. Let's talk about you. My guy found a lot about you, but nearly nothing before your 18th birthday. Nothing about your parents except that you had no money." I challenge.

"Oh yeah, when you pulled a background check on me? Why did you even flirt with me at the bar? What was the point?"

"Now look who's deflecting? I got... distracted. And I was drunk." I blush, looking away.

"Were you casing me at the bar?"

"Well yeah, but I had no idea you would come and talk to me. One thing about you during your formative high school years. Come on, I told you about the dream." I look at him through my lashes, staring at him with a look that will make him say yes. It works.

"Fine. I was a flamboyant, sparkly, popular kid in high school. I was obsessed with cops because when my dad died, he went down in a hail of gunfire. He saved ten people. He died a hero. All I wanted to do was get out of New York and be a detective in some big city," He pauses. Closes his eyes with a pained expression. "But my mom was a drug addict and we had no family to take care of her except me. She used up all of my money for college on drugs."

My mouth dropped. So he had a drug addict mom and a cop for a dad? That must have been strange.

"What happened to her?" I ask softly.

"She OD'd when I was nineteen." He replies, his voice a mixture of melancholy and hardness. It's a familiar feeling for me too. A long period of silence passes over us until my mouth decided to go AWOL.

"It was the high." I say, suddenly. He looks up in surprise. "The reason I keep doing it. I felt so invincible after that first deal. I had escaped the guy, I had a boatload of cash, a place to sleep. And I was good at it. I had been going through," My voice catches. I swallow hard and laugh bitterly. "What some people might call a rough patch."

"Doing what you do, that helps?" He asks, with a bit of hope in his voice.

"Yeah, it does. But like all addictions, it's a temporary fix." A lump is forming in my throat at the mention of my old pains.

"Before it's not enough, and you need more. I get it." His eyes are glued on mine, filled with understanding. I want him to come closer, but before anything can happen his cellphone rings. Closing his eyes, he slowly gets it out of his pocket. He didn't want the moment to end either.

"Bane." He barks into the phone. "I know, I have a relative in town. I'll be there in 10. Bye." He hangs up, and stares at me.

"I have to go into the office, think you can handle yourself for an hour?' He demands, as he looks around for his uniform.

"Where am I going to go?" He nods, and flies out of the room. I hear the door shut and he's gone, and I am alone.


End file.
